


happy birthday, fever

by carefulren



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sick Enjolras, Sickfic, birthday fic, birthday party gone wrong basically lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: While Grantaire is ready to party for Enjolras's birthday, Enjolras isn't, thanks to waking up the day of feeling sick.





	happy birthday, fever

Grantaire’s lips are rough yet warm against Enjolras’s cheek, and Enjolras groans, a deep sound muffled behind closed lips but still loud enough to have Grantaire pulling away with a light huff. 

“You’re usually pleased when I wake you up like this.” 

Enjolras cracks his eyes open and drags a tired gaze toward Grantaire. The brunet isn’t wrong, he thinks to himself. Waking to Grantaire’s kisses is the highlight of each day, yet this morning is different. He feels an uncomfortable weight of exhaustion pushing down on him despite having a full night’s sleep, and his head feels stuffed, heavy, and just generally off. 

“I didn’t want to wake up,” he mutters, frowning at the slight twinge of pain coloring the back of his throat. 

“But, it’s your birthday,” Grantaire presses, voice almost taking on whining pitch. “We’re going to party! We’re going to celebrate the day you graced this Earth with your beautiful-”

“R,” Enjolras interrupts while trying hard to keep his lips from pulling up into a smile. “I don’t want to party,” he admits, not missing the way Grantaire’s face twitches, teasing smile threatening to give way to a frown. 

Enjolras had been on board for the club before, but he’s really not feeling all that well now. The mere thought of being pressed against hot bodies while lights flash around in time with loud, pulsing music has his head reeling, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing out a measured breath before meeting Grantaire’s eyes once more. 

“Maybe you and I can spend a quiet night in,” he suggests, eyes rolling when Grantaire replies by leaning over to press warm lips to his. 

“We can do that after we party, E,” Grantaire says, still close enough that his heated breath ghosts across Enjolras’s face. 

Enjolras puts both palms to Grantaire’s chest and shoves the brunet off lightly as he moves to sit up, and Grantaire rolls onto his back with a huff. 

“I just don’t know if I’m feeling up for a club right now,” Enjolras says, blinking back a sudden grey haze that’s coating his vision from the small movement of sitting up. He moves one hand to his shoulder, digging fingers into his bare skin in an attempt to chase away the dull ache clinging to his bones, but he stops when Grantaire shifts behind him and cups a smooth hand over his. 

Grantaire’s other hand finds Enjolras’s free shoulder, and Enjolras drops his hand to his lap with a sigh as Grantaire begins pressing strong fingers into his skin. 

“I can help you feel up to it,” Grantaire breathes out, leaning over to smooth gentle kisses along the side of Enjolras’s neck, and Enjolras shakes his head. 

“Go shower, R.” 

Grantaire carefully slides off the bed but leans over it to press a light kiss to Enjolras’s forehead. “It will be fun,” he tells Enjolras, lips brushing against Enjolras’s warm skin. “I promise.” 

Enjolras isn’t sure how much of that promise Grantaire will be able to keep, but he nods all the same and even offers a small smile as Grantaire leaves the room. He keeps up the pleasant face until the door closes behind Grantaire. 

He stares at the door, lips slowly curling down into a frown, but a sudden tickle spiking in his nose as his face collapsing before he turns to sneeze sharply once, twice, into the crook of his elbow. 

A loud groan grates up his throat as he falls back against his pillow, and he drapes one arm over his eyes. He has no idea how he’s going to manage going to the club like this. 

*****

“I am so glad you have a birthday today, Enjolras! It’s the perfect excuse to get wasted!” Courfeyrac shouts from his spot across Enjolras and Grantaire at their usual lunch diner. “R and I are going to get shitfaced! Isn’t that right, R?” 

Enjolras has spent the better half of lunch leaning against Grantaire, feeling much too tired to sit up on his own. But, Grantaire didn’t even bat an eye when Enjolras first dropped against him; he only lifted one arm and pulled Enjolras in close, and the two remained that way, even now. 

“Not me,” Grantaire says, ignoring the arched brow Bahorel shoots him from his spot beside Courfeyrac. 

Enjolras glances up at this, loose strands of hair not secured in his bun brushing lightly against Grantaire’s jawline, but all at once, he’s pulling away from the brunet and reaching for a napkin to stifle a series of sneezes into the rough fabric just as Courfeyrac shouts. 

“What the hell, Grantaire! How are we supposed to have fun if you’re sober?” 

Enjolras rubs at his nose with the napkin, noting that his brief sneezing fit went unnoticed by the three boys with him. He and Grantaire lock eyes for the quickest of moments, and Grantaire breaks the gaze by opening his arm back up and motioning for Enjolras. 

Enjolras drops back against Grantaire’s side just as Grantaire turns toward the other two. 

“I’m insulted that you think I’m not fun when sober. I’ll have you know I’m fucking amazing while sober.” 

“Why aren’t you going to drink, R?” 

Enjolras pays close attention to Bahorel’s question, and he leans closer into Grantaire’s warmth when the brunet answers. 

“Because E shouldn’t have to take care of my drunk ass on his birthday.” 

From underneath the table, Grantaire’s free hand finds one of Enjolras’s. The two lace fingers, and for the moment, Enjolras thinks he can manage tonight after all, so long as he has Grantaire at his side. 

*****

He was wrong. 

He can’t manage. 

When he and Grantaire got back from lunch, he excused himself to take a nap, hoping that sleep would help him feel better, but he’d been severely mistaken. If anything, he woke feeling worse. 

His head’s pounding against his temples. It feels as if there’s two hands pressing on either side of his head as if trying to pop it like a balloon filled with air. His nose is alternating between stuffed up and runny as quickly as his temperature is shifting from stifling hot to freezing cold, and his throat feels as if it’s littered in shards of glass. He feels downright miserable, and he looks it too. 

He stares at the pale reflection looking back at him, frowning at the bright red flush spread across his cheeks. A tickle in his nose as his face scrunching up, and he has just enough time to pick up his tissue on the sink counter and press it to his nose before a series of rapid sneezes have his shoulders shaking from the quick force. 

He’s left sniffling when he finishes, and just moments later, Grantaire is walking into the bathroom and draping himself over Enjolras’s back while resting his chin on Enjolras’s shoulder. 

“Don’t you look amazing,” Grantaire breathes out, eyeing the deep red short-sleeved shirt that seems to hug to each of Enjolras’s muscles. 

Enjolras unconsciously leans into Grantaire’s warmth while staring at the brunet through the mirror. “How long do you think we’ll be?” He asks, staring hard as Grantaire’s eyes drift as if in thought. 

“Hmm. You’re the birthday boy, so I know everyone is going to want to get their hands on you. There may also be a birthday shot, or two… Maybe three hours?” 

Enjolras’s face falls. He truly has no idea if he can manage three hours in a blaring loud club. He drops his gaze to the floor, only to slowly drag it up when Grantaire’s lips meet his cheek. 

“It will be fun, E.” Grantaire says against Enjolras’s cheek before pursing his lips into another kiss against Enjolras’s heated skin. “You’re still warm from your nap,” he mutters, almost as an after thought.

Enjolras could laugh at this because he feels anything but warm, but he opts to remain silent as Grantaire finally pulls away to help tame Enjolras’s wild bed head. 

****

It’s worse than Enjolras thought. 

He’s a popular man by any means, and every single friend he has is piled into this club along with the usual weekend attendees. All of these swaying bodies paired with jolting music and persistent flashing lights has Enjolras feeling as if he’s nearing death’s door. 

He tries; he really does. He moves across the dance floor, stopping to dance with each friend, but it’s too much. His head is reeling; the floor underneath is feet is tilting, and he’s shaking despite an uncomfortable heat clinging to his limbs. He looks for Grantaire, but the brunet is lost among a sea of bodies, so he leans toward Jehan, who he’s currently dancing with, and excuses himself to the bathroom. 

He stumbles against the crowd, worry spiking across his veins as the loud sounds around him fade to a muffled, distant echo. His vision is growing dark, and he’s long given up on being polite, now forcefully shoving against random bodies to get free. 

When he spots the bathroom sign, he’s on his last leg. He shoves the door open, freezing when he spots Cosette standing at a mirror. 

“Enjolras? You’re in the wrong room.” 

Her voice is kind, gentle, and any other day, Enjolras would apologize and exit, but his knees are buckling, and he’s dropping to the floor before his mind can catch up. 

“Enjolras!” 

Cosette is at his side in a second, and she cups a cool hand to his burning cheek. 

“Can… you please.. get R?” He manages out in between quick, rasping breaths, and Cosette says something, he’s not sure, before bolting out of the bathroom. 

He moves until he’s against a wall before pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his forehead against one knee. His head  _hurts,_ and he just wants to be home with Grantaire. He’s fading; he can feel it, so fast that he doesn’t hear the bathroom door open. 

 _“Enjolras!”_  

That, however, he hears. He lifts his head slowly just as Grantaire drops to the floor in front of him with wide eyes practically painted in worry. 

Grantaire reaches out, smoothing some of Enjolras’s hair back, and presses a cool palm to overheated skin. His lips set into a deep frown as he brings his other hand up to cup Enjolras’s cheek. 

“You’re running a fever,” he mutters, smoothing one thumb across Enjolras’s cheek. “Have you been feeling sick?” 

Enjolras parts his lips to reply, but his jaw falls slack, and he just barely makes it in time to turn away and sneeze harshly into his elbow four rattling times. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Grantaire mutters, concern etched deeply across his face. “This is what you meant when you said you didn’t feel like going?” 

Enjolras only nods just as the bathroom door swings open. He and Grantaire snap their gazes to see Combeferre. 

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre asks, already dropping into a crouch beside the two. 

“He’s got a fever,” Grantaire answers. “He’s been sneezing as well.” 

“Anything else?” Combeferre asks, and Enjolras nods weakly. 

“My head hurts. Throat, too. And, I’m tired.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a bad cold,” Combeferre answers. “I can tell the others, and we can cancel-”

“No!” Enjolras is quick to his feet, and it’s only Grantaire’s steady arm suddenly around his waist keeping him upright. “They don’t need to stop everything because I’m sick. Let them have fun. It’s fine. I’ll just go home and rest.” 

“I’ll go with him,” Grantaire says, and every inch of Enjolras tells him to protest this, but his heart reminds him on just how badly he wants Grantaire there with him. He keeps his mouth closed, but the wide look in his eyes is enough for Grantaire. 

“It’s fine. I want to go with you,” Grantaire says, tightening his arm around Enjolras’s waist. “Besides, I would never leave you alone when you’re sick, so you’re stuck with me.” 

“What should I tell the others?” Combeferre asks as Grantaire steers Enjolras toward the door. 

Enjolras briefly turns away from Grantaire to sneeze sharply before he glances back at Combeferre and says the most Grantaire-like answer his fevered mind supplies. 

“Tell them to party in my honor.” 

*****

“Are you in an ‘I want to change lives’  _Freedom Writers_ mood, or an ‘I’ll stop the movie before it gets sad’  _Moulin Rouge_  mood?” Grantaire asks, holding up the two DVDs. 

Enjolras tightens the blanket wrapped around him and quirks his head to the side. “I’m more in a ‘stare into your eyes until I fall asleep’ mood,” he says with a smile that only grows as Grantaire’s smile grows. 

“Guess we are going with Disney,” Grantaire says, abandoning the two movies in his hands in favor of popping the Lion King into the DVD player before curling up on the couch beside Enjolras. 

Enjolras leans hard into Grantaire, leeching the brunet’s warmth as he waits for the medicine he took a few minutes ago to kick in, and Grantaire responds by wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.” 

Enjolras drops his head against Grantaire’s shoulder with a soft sigh. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Another Birthday Fic that I'm leaving out of my series of H/C one-shots because it's one of the longer ones and another one I actually like!


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